Where Family Begins
by Yumeshojo
Summary: Youngest son of the prestigious Bellator family. Oldest son of the practically abandoned Winchester boys. They walk past each other every day. Today, they collide. And the friendship that springs up will change the way they see the world - and family. Supernatural AU, Teen!Dean, Cas, and Sam, no paranormal. No pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**Been thinking about doing this for a while. Finally got bored and wrote something. Supernatural Alternate Universe with Teen!Dean, Sam, and Cas, as well as the rest of both "families." No hunters or monsters, angels or demons - an almost normal life. ...I've never done anything like this before...wrote an AU, taken characters out of their element...it looks fun, though. Hope you like? These will most likely be all tiny drabble-chapters, so you've been warned.**

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There is an intersection Sioux Falls, South Dakota that runs along the outer edge of town. The road hasn't turned to gravel yet, but the fences are easily mistaken for hedges and upkeep isn't much thought of by the citizens. It's out of the way, and the two streets lead very few places, even fewer of them of note. But one way leads out to Singer Salvage, and the other away from town and, more importantly, the Bellator Estate.

As it happens, on this day, there are two boys on that road. They are heading in different directions, but running from the same thing. One wants to save the world, and the other only wants to save _his _world.

And those worlds collide as they do.

"Ohff!"

The shorter of the two careens off the pavement and into the street, stumbling to a halt, still standing. He's out of breath, but looks back at the figure who obstructed his path expectantly.

"Nailed that landing, right?"

He's wearing a leather jacket, his hair is short and spiked, and his square face is dotted with freckles. He snaps his fingers roguishly as he saunters back onto the sidewalk. He stops to peer down at the fallen fellow man.

"You gonna get up or what?"

The other youth is slightly shorter, leaner, and unenthused at the development. He's dressed smartly, a trench-coat hanging off his frame without thought, his hair ruffled as though by many hands. He watches his assailant without comment, without concern.

The other boy frowns.

"Didja break somethin?"

Slowly, the questioned shakes his head. "I am uninjured."

"Well, great!" The first returns with obvious frustration. "You wanna get off the ground then?"

"Yes." But he makes no move to get up.

Rolling his eyes, Dean reaches out his hand. "You need help with that, sunshine?"

After staring in confusion for several seconds, Castiel takes it.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam is curled up on the window seat, hair a mess of tangles and eyes staring with unnatural fixation on the book he's pretending to read. Bobby doesn't call him out on this, and turns slightly away to give the kid a bit of privacy when his childish resolve fumbles and he sneaks a look out the window despite being unable to see anything through it but the rot piling up in the salvage yard. It's been less than half an hour since the boy's big brother had strutted off the front porch with yet another wild idea in his head, leaving Sam "to his books." Which amounted, basically, to Sam being unable to do anything except watch hopefully for his brother to come back and offer to take him with this time. He never does.

The front door squeaks open and bangs shut with careless familiarity.

And Sam is buried beneath the pages of his novel, face hidden from view as Dean stomps into the kitchen. Without even a glance their way, he pulls open the fridge and reaches for he won't find.

"Bobby, where's the beer?"

"There isn't any," he replies without looking up.

He can almost hear the boy turn on his boot. "Why not?"

"Because you're sixteen, Dean. And Sam's fourteen." Bobby turns over the paper he's reading, trying to remember what it was he was supposed to be doing with it. "I'm not keeping alcohol in the house anymore. I shoulda quite drinking as soon as you two moved in."

This last part he mumbles to himself, giving up the senseless sheet of paper in his hand in favor of rubbing his eyes.

"Dad let me drink."

"Do I _look_ like your dad?"

Their eyes meet, and the thoughts that pass there hurt them both, and neither says anything.

"You're back early." He's trying to pull off nonchalance, Sam, but he's biting his lip and his eyes still aren't moving across the page.

"Ran into a kid on my way out." Dean finally opts for a soda since beer is now lacking, and shuts the fridge. "Literally. Rounded the corner and POW!"

Sam lets his book droop as he turns. "He okay?"

"I'm fine, Sammy, thanks for asking."

Sam shoots him a look. "Of course you're fine, Dean, you're practically a tank. Did you hurt the kid?"

"Yep." Dean nods, looking rather pleased with both himself and his brother's comment. "But not by running him down."

Bobby narrows his eyes. "What do you mean by that, boy?"

Dean tips his drink to his companions, grinning. "I punched him."


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh. Good. Gracious." Balthazar sees his brother coming up the drive long before he reaches the front door, and he's waiting for him with a towel, a bowl of warm water, and a sigh when he steps in.

Castiel has his shoulders slumped and is staring forlornly at the floor, the ceiling, the wall, anywhere but at the one in front of him. Balthazar hands him the towel.

"What happened?"

"A boy hit me."

The older of the two smiles sadly before reaching out and wrapping his arm around his brother's shoulder. Castiel continues to dap at his bleeding nose as Balthazar leads him away from the entrance hall and living room towards the kitchen. "Honestly, Cassie, I'm surprised more people don't hit you. You have a gift for rather painful honesty."

"I do not see how this permits violence against me."

"It doesn't." Balthazar sets the water down on the counter and pulls Cas' now stained tie loose. "But that hardly matters. We're all human."

"How does our biology-"

"Cas, hold still. Let me have a look."

Obliging, Cas removes the towel from his nose and leans back for his brother to see. Bal smiles. "Doesn't look too bad. Nothing broke?"

He brings his hand up, pausing for permission. A simple blink from the stoic injured, and he gingerly begins to feel the cartilage. Another smile.

"Nothing broke."

"I do not understand what I did, Balthazar."

"Of course you don't." Is his brother's reply. He resumes where Cas has left off, dabbing the now wet rag across the blood drops and smears, trying to lighten the red on the white of his dress shirt with no luck. Absently, he continued. "Tell me what you said."

"It hardly seems useful to give you dialogue without context."

"Well, seeing as you tend to offend people with your words rather than your actions," Bal tugs on Cas' coat, and he lets it slide off into his brother's hands. "I thought it would be quicker to just hear that part."

Cas eyes Balthazar for a moment before seeming to come to the conclusion that the logic was there, and he replies. "'I am uninjured,' 'Yes,' 'Thank you-'"

Infinitely patient, Bal cuts in softly as he searches the kitchen for the cleaning bleach. "Right before he hit you, Castiel. What did you say right before this other boy hit you?"

"'One of the Winchester orphans.'"

Bal stops mid crouch before an open floor cabinet. He presses his eyes shut, stands, and sighs again. "No need to ask who hit you, then."


End file.
